


Vanya Goes to School

by bumblybee



Series: Adventures with Vanya [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 23:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11747013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblybee/pseuds/bumblybee
Summary: The kids are back in school, the summer rush has died down, and Sidney’s unbearably, unspeakablybored.Sequel toHockey with Vanya.





	Vanya Goes to School

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this](http://emalkin71.tumblr.com/post/163608336219/x) gifset of Geno interacting with a kid on his Cup day, had some Emotions, and started working on this. It doesn't look very much like that gifset now that it's all said and done, but this AU probably wouldn't exist if Geno wasn't so darn cute with kids. 
> 
> I'm marking this series as finished for now - I'd really like to write one more piece for this AU, but I don't want to feel guilty if I don't end up coming back to it for a little while.

The kids are back in school, the summer rush has died down, and Sidney’s unbearably, unspeakably _bored_.

His summer employees are back at high school again, and while he’s used to handling most of the school year on his own, it’s not nearly as fun as it had been over the summer. Sidney doesn’t want to say he misses how wild it is, the insane schedule and organization required to get through it, but he does miss the shop being full of kids running around, pulling things off the shelves and making Sidney or Rachel straighten up the displays once they’re gone. Now it’s just Sidney left to do that, and he’s lucky if it happens a couple times a week.

He may wish for the school year when it’s summer, but he desperately wishes for summer when school starts again.

Sidney’s getting the front counter ready for the day, trying not to be too mopey, when Geno walks in, two paper coffee cups in hand, pastry bags held between his fingers.

Sidney’s not sure he’s ever seen Geno look as attractive as he does then, laden with coffee and food.

“Got breakfast,” he says, setting them on the front counter carefully before leaning over it to kiss Sidney’s cheek. It’s still new, this intimacy, still something Sidney hasn’t quite gotten used to yet, and the way Geno smiles at him after pulling away tells him that he’s probably blushing again.

“Get you breakfast sandwich,” Geno tells him. “And coffee—lot of sugar, little bit cream.”

“You’re the best,” Sidney says, and when Geno walks behind the counter to stand with him, Sidney tries for a kiss—but Geno turns his head away.

“Bad breath,” Geno says. “Need mint, then kiss.”

“Oh.” Sidney honestly hasn’t noticed that his breath is bad, but now he feels a little foolish. “Do you have a mint?”

Geno blinks, his face settling into a confused expression, and then laughs. “No, _my_ breath bad, Sid. Your breath perfect, always. Smell like flowers.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” Sidney says, but Geno kisses him before he can say anything else, and—yeah, okay, Geno could definitely do with a mint.

“See, I tell you.” Geno pecks Sidney’s cheek after, almost in apology, before reaching for his own pastry. “Just try to save you.”

Sidney laughs, and then a customer walks in, looking around a little confusedly before walking over to the counter.

“I’m looking for books for a seven-year-old?” he asks, and Geno is immediately up and walking around the counter.

“I show, I know best books,” he says, and Sidney knows without watching that Geno’s taking him over to his own book, given pride of place in the handful of spots Sidney has it on display. He can hear their voices even after they disappear behind the shelves, Geno’s quieter, lower voice and the customer’s own loud, higher one, and even though he can’t tell what they’re saying, it’s—it’s nice, having Geno here. He doesn’t have to be, and Sidney’s made that clear to him, but Geno keeps coming back, keeps hanging around when he has the time and helping out when Sidney needs it.

It makes Sidney feel a little guilty, truth be told, but he’s not sure how to broach the subject with Geno while also making it clear that he’s not bothering Sidney in the least.

Geno and the customer return with a small stack of books, _Hockey with Vanya_ in the middle of the pile. Sidney rings the customer up while Geno works on his own breakfast, tearing apart a pastry and sipping at his coffee when it’s still much too hot, though he doesn’t complain about it when Sidney’s pretty sure it must burn his tongue.

When the customer leaves, Geno’s only got his coffee left to finish, and Sidney sets in on his breakfast sandwich. It’s a little cold now, and maybe he should have eaten it when Geno and the customer were looking at books, but it still tastes fine, and his coffee is perfect—just on the right side of sickly sweet.

“How are the paintings coming along?” Sidney asks, and Geno grimaces.

“Is okay,” Geno says, and although he sounds fine, the way he looks shuts down that line of conversation. Sidney knows Geno doesn’t usually want to talk about the new book, but sometimes when Sidney asks, Geno will give him a preview, or show him a sketch of Vanya he’s especially proud of. Sometimes he’ll paint something just for Sidney, and give it to him in a nice little frame—those always end up at the shop, behind the counter where everyone can see them.

Mostly, though, Geno’s been shutting down recently when Sidney asks, and Sidney doesn’t know whether or not to keep pushing or leave him alone about it.

Geno finishes off his coffee and drops the cup in the trash bin, pulling a tin of mints out of his pocket and popping one in his mouth.

“Kiss now?” he asks, his bottom lip pushing out into a pout, and—well, Sidney can’t say no to that.

* * *

Geno brings Sidney breakfast again the next Monday, his art bag over his shoulder.

“I work here?” Geno asks, and while Sidney knows it’s probably not a great idea—he can already imagine a bunch of kids recognizing Geno and bothering him when he’s trying to work—he can’t really deny Geno anything. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that Geno’s had some sort of creative block, and he doesn’t want to be anything but supportive if Geno’s trying some new things out.

“Yeah, of course,” Sidney tells him.

Geno kisses his cheek, grabbing one of the folding chairs Sidney keeps in the back and setting it up at the end of the counter. Sidney watches him pull out his watercolor pad, which takes up a good portion of the surface space, as well as his paints, brushes, pens, pencils, a cup for water, and his coffee. It makes everything feel cluttered and haphazard, and it makes something on the back of Sidney’s neck itch a little, but there’s still plenty of room for at least two stacks of books when ringing up a customer, so Sidney decides not to say anything.

It’s another slow day, and while Sidney tries to keep himself busy in other parts of the shop and out of Geno’s way, there’s only so much straightening and rearranging of displays he can do before there’s really nothing that needs to be done. He tries to slip behind Geno to get to the register, and his rear end grazes against the wall, knocking a few pictures to the ground.

Geno turns to look behind him then, and smiles, tongue between his teeth.

“Don’t even,” Sidney says, and Geno shakes his head, hands raised a little bit.

“I’m not say anything.”

Sidney puts the pictures back up on the wall, and Geno tries to scoot his chair forward a little.

“Need to make more room for butt,” Geno says, and Sidney can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

He does get a glimpse at what Geno’s doing while he passes him, though, and Geno doesn’t particularly hide it when he goes back to work, so Sidney takes the opportunity to watch.

The color scheme for the new book is different, the blues and purples exchanged for soft reds and yellows. Sidney knows it’s about school, and there are light pencil sketches of a handful of different baby animals outside in a circle, with an adult owl in the middle which Sidney assumes is the teacher. The trees are already watercolored, the leaves matching the new color scheme, and Sidney can pick out Vanya in the very middle, already painted in with varying shades of gray and black.

“It looks really good,” Sidney says, trying to be encouraging, because it really does. Sidney’s still constantly amazed at Geno’s work, even though he’s seen it up close and personal before.

Geno doesn’t look up at him, wrapping an arm around Sidney’s waist instead andgiving him a squeeze.

A group of kids and their parents walk in soon after. Geno snakes his arm away quickly, going back to work, and Sidney hates that, hates that they have to do things this way—but it’s complicated enough as it is, what he and Geno have. They haven’t even really put a name to it yet, and Sidney’s not going to bring it up in case that makes everything fall apart.

Most of the kids head toward the age-appropriate sections with their parents, but there’s one straggler, staring at Geno as he works. Sidney can’t really blame the little boy. He doesn’t know anything about painting, either, but the way Geno furrows his brow when he’s working as though it's painful, knows just how much water and pigment to add when he’s mixing colors, how the shapes he draws at first transform before Sidney’s eyes into recognizable characters—it’s entrancing, and even more so because Geno doesn’t even realize it.

If Geno notices the boy, he doesn’t say anything, focusing instead on painting some of the animals. Each owl feather becomes a slightly different shade of brown or copper, and Geno moves from one feather to another on opposite sides of the owl, its plumage slowly being filled in.

Sidney’s tempted to let the boy come watch where he can actually see what Geno’s doing better, but Geno looks up then, notices that he has an audience, and grins.

“Hi,” he says. “You want to see?”

The boy’s eyes widen, and Geno takes his water cup, palette, brush, and the paper pad and brings it around, arranging everything on the carpet before sitting down. He pats the spot on the carpet next to him, and the boy shuffles over, a little shy.

“Vanya,” the boy says, pointing out the penguin, and Geno lights up.

“Yes, is Vanya! You get first look at new book. See, he have so many friends now.”

The boy doesn’t say anything else, but Geno continues chatting to him as he works, talking about painting and some of the new characters.

“How you think this guy called?” Geno asks, pointing at a monkey he’s started to paint. “He’s not have name yet.”

The boy looks thoughtful for a moment, then looks up at Geno. “Sean.”

“Sean,” Geno says. “I like.”

“My name’s Sean,” the boy says, and Geno stops for a minute, turning to the boy. It’s the most he’s said the whole time, and it tugs a little at Sidney’s heartstrings.

“Then he definitely Sean, for new friend,” Geno says, and the boy grins, showing off some of his lost teeth.

A mother rounds the corner with a sleeping baby in stroller. Her eyes widen in relief when she sees Sean as though she’s been looking for him for a while, and she sighs, her shoulders falling a little.

“Thank you for watching him,” she tells Geno.

“No problem. He help me with monkey.”

“The monkey’s name is Sean,” the boy tells his mother, and she nods seriously, taking a peek at the monkey on the page.

The other parents in the group end up buying some books, and Sean’s mother picks up some presumably for the baby in the stroller. Geno moves all his art supplies back to the counter, and he flips through a few pages in his pad, eventually tearing off part of a page. He writes something in the corner with a pen, and then gives it to Sean.

“First time I’m draw monkey Sean,” he tells him. “You should have, for name him.”

Sean holds the edges of the paper tight, looking up at Geno.

“What do you say, Sean?” his mother asks, and Sean blinks once before answering.

“Thank you,” he says, cracking into another toothless smile.

When the group of parents and kids are gone, and Geno goes back to his work, Sidney notices he doesn't look like he's in pain—he’s smiling.

* * *

 Geno invites Sidney over a few weeks later, and, well, Sidney doesn’t know what to make of that, so clearly the solution is to reread the text until it reveals something.

 _After work, come over,_ it says, and Sidney’s not really sure what he’s supposed to be prepared for. But he stops by at home after closing, switches out his t-shirt for a nicer, plain black one, and heads over to Geno’s place.

It’s a cute little house—it looks like someone has actually spent the time to renovate it themselves. It makes Sidney feel cozy just looking at it. There’s a pair of rocking chairs on the front deck; one looks well-loved, the varnish faded on the arms, seat, and back, while the other looks almost new.

Sidney rings the doorbell. It’s one of the older bells that plays a little melody, and Geno’s there before it finishes, opening the door. He looks a little frazzled, like he’s completely lost track of the time, but he looks so _thrilled_ to see Sidney.

“Sid!” he says, pulling Sidney inside and delivering a quick kiss to his cheek. “Come see.”

Sidney only gets the briefest look at the rest of Geno’s house, as Geno’s walking a little too quickly for Sidney to keep up comfortably, but if he hadn’t known it was Geno’s house, he might have thought it belonged to an older couple. Nothing really seems to match—the color scheme is all over the place, as though each piece in the house had been collected at different times over a long period. It looks lived-in, though, like Geno really plans on spending his life here; there are pictures of his family on the walls, Christmas cards on the mantle from at least a couple different years, and framed art from other artists, blocky Cyrillic letters featuring prominently in some of them.

It doesn’t look at all like the bachelor pad Sidney had been expecting, and, well, the bachelor pad didn’t really seem like Geno’s style, anyway.

Geno leads him down to the basement, which isn’t actually a basement at all, but rather the bottom floor of the house; there’s a French door that leads out into a modestly-sized yard, the grass getting a little long. It’s a completely open space, though, and Geno’s filled it with his work. Sidney counts four easels, large sheets of watercolor paper displayed in various different stages of Geno’s process—one is inked and looks nearly complete, while another is still just a pencil sketch with a few splotches of color.

There’s two desks, one completely covered with art supplies—paper pads, brushes, paints, cups filled with nearly-transparent water—and another cleared off, a sheet of paper taped down to the top with masking tape. Geno goes to the second table, peels off the tape, and puts the painting on the easel in front of the pencil sketch.

“Already dry, just get out of way,” Geno explains.

He reaches for a leather portfolio on the same table, off to the side. The way Geno picks it up tells Sidney that it’s important, that whatever Geno’s got to show him is important, and Sidney feels grateful, excited that Geno wants to share this with him.

Geno sets the portfolio right in the middle of the table, and he pulls out the rolling desk chair for Sidney, motioning for him to sit. Sidney does, and Geno scoot him closer to the table before opening the portfolio.

The first painting matches the cover of _Hockey with Vanya_ —there’s a penguin in the foreground, with red- and yellow- and orange-leafed trees behind him. There’s no title or author name, but Sidney recognizes it for what it is.

Geno’s finished the book.

“G,” Sidney breathes, but Geno shakes his head, gently turning the painting over. The next is just a wash of watercolor, continuing with the color scheme, and Geno lingers there just long enough for Sidney to recognize it as the title page before moving on.

None of the actual text is there yet, so Sidney’s left to infer what the storyline is, but Geno’s done such a great job with it that it’s not difficult—Vanya’s starting school, having to adjust to both a different language and different curriculum while still trying to make new friends. Sean the monkey and a gosling whose name Sidney doesn’t know befriends him, and while one or two of the other students make fun of Vanya for his accent or the lunches his mother packs for him, it appears to be shut down quickly by himself, his friends, and the owl teacher. At the very end, Vanya addresses the reader, and while it’s hard to tell what exactly he’s meant to be saying, all three friends are decked out in hockey gear on the very last page, playing in a school rink.

“What you think?” Geno asks, turning to the very last painting, the back cover, showing the students in a circle around their teacher. Sidney can practically feel Geno vibrating with excitement beside him, and it’s almost contagious.

Sidney knows he doesn’t exactly have any right to, knows that they’ve only really known each other for a few months, but he feels an overwhelming rush of pride. Geno _did that_ , and Sidney got to watch him, at least for part of the process, develop it from a loose idea into an almost complete book.

“It’s amazing,” Sidney says, and it’s not nearly enough to encapsulate everything he wants to say, but Geno beams at him, holding Sidney’s face in his hands and leaning down to kiss him.

“Baby goose is you,” Geno tells him afterward, flipping back to one of the paintings. “I’m name him Sid.”

“You didn’t,” Sidney says, cracking a smile, but Geno shuffles through a stack of printer paper on his other, messier desk, grabbing a handful and handing it to Sidney.

And there, on the first page, is the script of Sid the gosling talking to Vanya, asking him about hockey.

It has to be a first draft; the English is a little broken, and a couple words are misspelled, but it’s an email printout. Geno’s already sent it off, which means—

“I’m get them scan and print today,” Geno says, tapping the paintings with his finger. “Already in mail, send to editor. He fix the English, give back to me. If I say okay, I like, they email proofs soon.”

“Geno,” Sidney says, and he pushes the chair back, standing up. Geno immediately pulls him into a hug, and they stand there for a while, Geno holding onto him like he’s afraid Sidney might disappear out of his arms.

* * *

 Geno gets a physical author’s proof copy of the book in December, and he brings it to the shop so they can flip through it for the first time together.It matches _Hockey with Vanya_ , both in terms of style and dimensions—the title has the same holographic foiling, and the two covers look like they’re part of a set, not just two separate books put out by the same author. The book text is the same font, and it’s even cuter now that Sidney understands what’s going on in the story better.

The back cover has the same author’s bio as the previous book, with a small addition: Vanya Goes to School _is the second book in the_ Adventures with Vanya _series, a planned trilogy intended for children emigrating from non-English-speaking countries._

The publisher’s letter gives details for the publishing date, as well as promotion suggestions—Geno, not to Sidney’s surprise, decides that they should have a party, and so they start planning one for the shop.

“I want bounce house,” Geno says, and Sidney laughs, thinking he’s joking, until Geno wrinkles his nose.

“G, it’s _winter_ ,” Sidney says. “We can’t put it in the grass, and we’re not putting it in the parking lot.”

“Why?”

Sidney sighs. “It’s a safety issue. It’s a small space, and it’s asphalt—some poor kid would jump and crack their head open, if they’re not slipping on ice.”

“We put in my yard.”

“Then you’d be the only one to use it. _And_ it’ll be cold.”

“Yes. I bundle up, is fine. No line this way, no waiting for turns, all for me.”

Sidney rolls his eyes. “So, _besides_ a bounce house, which you can get for yourself if you want it, what should we have at the party?”

They work out the general plan—there will be a reading, a signing, little goodie bags courtesy of the publisher, some light refreshments for both parents and kids—and leave the details to figure out later.

“Not a party without bounce house,” Geno says by the end of it all, and Sidney draws a line under the list for the shop party and adds ‘bounce house’ under ‘Geno’s Party.’

“You come to my party?” Geno asks then, looking smug.

“Maybe. But only if you’ve got a bounce house.”

Geno grins, pulling Sidney in for a kiss.

* * *

 The launch party is on a Saturday in February, a couple days before the Tuesday release date. Sidney sets a specific time, the last week of January, at which tickets will go on sale, and he posts the information both on the shop’s Twitter—he’d promised Rachel he’d try to keep up with it—as well as the website.

There’s a line down the block when Sidney arrives at the shop on the morning of the ticket sales, and since Sidney’s already had to let go of his holiday help—high schoolers only have so long of a winter break—Geno is in charge of selling the tickets.

Most people don’t recognize Geno, assuming he’s just a seasonal employee, but Sean’s mother is in line, and her eyes widen a little when she sees Geno.

“Should have tell you, you’re not have to wait in line,” Geno says. “I make sure Sean get ticket. No book without him.”

“I didn’t think you’d be working here,” she says, and Geno shrugs.

“Not working,” Geno explains. “Just help boyfriend when he need it.” He hands her a ticket without taking the two dollars she hands him.

 _Boyfriend_.

They still haven’t put a word to it yet, and Sidney probably should have realized that that’s what they were— _boyfriends_ —before now. But it’s nice to hear Geno say, and it makes Sidney’s brain short-circuit for a moment.

“—Really excited about it,” he hears Sean’s mom say when Sidney’s able to actually pay attention again, and she and Geno smile at each other before she leaves. They must have exchanged information at some point, because they say goodbye to each other by name when she leaves, and Geno moves on to the next person in line.

Sidney can almost feel Geno glance at him every once in a while as he sells the tickets, the stack of little purple cards getting smaller and smaller until they’re out—and there’s still a line out the door.

“No more, Sid,” Geno tells him quietly, and Sidney’s left with his least-favorite part of these kinds of events. He walks out from behind the counter, going down the line to tell people that they’ve sold out, that there’s no more tickets. Upset parents let him know exactly what they think, and Sidney’s only left apologizing profusely: _I’m so sorry, there was a line here very early this morning, we have other events coming up that you might be interested in._ Fortunately, the worst he gets is “What horrible management,” which is probably the kindest insult he’s heard at a ticket sales event in recent memory, so he’ll take it.

When he gets back to the shop after having to go down the block with his announcement, Geno is still there, looking sympathetic. He puts his arm out, and Sidney leans into him, sighing.

“So,” Sidney says. “Boyfriends.”

Geno looks a little surprised, and—okay, maybe Sidney should have given some lead-up to that. But Geno nods after a moment.

“Yes,” he says. “Boyfriends.”

“You know boyfriends don’t get paid for helping out.”

“I know.”

“And—that’s okay? Because if you want a job—“

“I have job, Sid.” Geno looks up at Sidney, his face stern. “I’m help boyfriend, like I say. I do because I—because I have time to do this, and I see you more. You need help but not hire anybody. Can’t do all by yourself, Sid.“

For a moment, for the briefest moment, Sidney thought Geno was going to say something else instead, something very different, and when he doesn’t, Sidney—well he’s not sure what to say, because he’s realized something about himself that he really didn’t need to bring to the surface.

“I’ve done it by myself for this long,” Sidney says, though the look Geno gives him tells him that he's not fooling anyone.

* * *

 While Sidney and Geno had tried to get most of the preparations for the launch party done the night before, there’s still a lot to do when they get there the morning of the party.

The bakery from a few blocks down delivers their order. The custom cookies—a mix of penguins, hockey sticks, and helmets, along with some gluten-free options—are set out, and it takes two people to carry in the cake, designed by Geno himself. It’s two tiers and _massive_ , with snowflake detailing around the cake base and icicles on the top tier. What makes it, though, is the big Rice Krispie penguin on the top, covered in fondant to look like Vanya.

They’re able to set up the refreshments table with a little help from the delivery guys, complete with some chilled juice and water. The signing table is already set up, as are most of the decorations, but the balloons Geno had insisted on still need to be blown up.

“No more air, can’t breathe,” Geno says, working on his seventh balloon and leaning back against his chair with a sigh.

“You’re the one who wanted them,” Sidney reminds him, tying off his ninth, and Geno groans.

“Next time, you tell me ‘No, Geno, remember how bad? You’re almost die of no air. No balloons today.’”

Sidney laughs, because they both know Geno will want balloons next time, and that Sidney will do absolutely no such thing.

Geno eventually manages to find more air, though, because they get the balloons blown up and tied off with string. There’s a line outside the shop by the time they’re done, and Sidney moves as much of the line inside as possible to keep anyone from getting too cold.

Everything’s mostly done; Geno’s already grabbed the plush penguin and the book from his bag as he sits down on the carpet, they’ve got the books by the signing table, and while it’s generally Sidney’s policy to start on time, not before or after, he decides there’s no harm in it this time.

He takes tickets and counts heads, the kids running to the Reading Corner one by one. They’ve set things up so that the fun stuff—balloons, goodie bags, the cake—aren’t visible until the line for the signing, hoping to avoid any disruptions during the reading, and it seems to be working so for the most part; they’ve yet to have anyone wander off, which Sidney counts as a success.

Sean and his moms are at about the middle point of the line, his little sister in her stroller, and Sidney smiles when he sees them.

“I think Geno’s got a surprise for you,” he tells Sean, “but you’ll have to wait until the signing for it.”

Sean’s eyes go wide, and he looks up at his moms, who look equally surprised. Sidney notices out of his periphery that Sean’s sitting close to Geno on the carpet, Geno saying something to him quietly while Sean pets the stuffed penguin beside him.

There are a few families who show up a little closer to the scheduled time, which means they do actually start on time—thankfully—and Sidney’s able to get the room quieted down as he introduces Geno.

“I know some of you guys read _Hockey with Vanya_ , Mr. Malkin’s other book,” he says. “But today, he’s going to read us his brand-new book about Vanya, and then you can meet him and take home some fun stuff. How does that sound?”

Most of the kids seem excited, but some are already focusing in on Geno as he waves and gives his own introduction. Sidney moves back behind the parent seating, snapping a few pictures here and there while Geno starts reading.

It’s similar to the other readings Geno’s done since his first: lots of questions, lots of cute reactions. Sidney watches Sean when the first appearance of the monkey comes up, and Sean sits up straight, points right at the book in the middle of Geno reading the page, and says, “That’s me!”

One of his moms shushes him, the other—the one they’d met before, Candace—hiding a smile behind her hand while the other parents laugh. Geno’s face goes a little soft, and he smiles at Sean, stopping mid-sentence.

“This my friend Sean,” he says. “He’s help me name monkey Sean.”

Sean smiles at that, and Geno goes back to the book after a moment, but Sidney can see the way Sean pulls his knees up to his chest and sits and watches, enraptured.

Later, there’s a chorus of “That’s mean!” from a few different kids when Vanya is teased, and some laughter at the extra pages in the back when Vanya and his friends fall on their rear ends on the ice. And then Geno’s finished, there’s applause, and Sidney walks back up to the front.

“Okay, so the signing will start in ten minutes. You can take a break, grab some refreshments, and we’ll start a line by the table over there.”

After a brief stampede of kids trying to find the right parents and vice versa, the Reading Corner is empty, abandoned for balloons and goodie bags and food. Geno stands up a little awkwardly, his limbs a little too long for it to be graceful, and he grins at Sidney.

“I think it go good,” he says, and Sidney nods.

“Just wait until they’re hyped up on sugar. It’s still early yet.”

True to their word, after doing a little mingling and trying out the cake and cookies for themselves, it’s time for the signing. Sidney asks everyone to start forming a line, and he and Geno get set up at the table with a few minutes to spare. Geno places Vanya the penguin in his usual spot, fiddling with the clip on a Sharpie while he waits. Once Sidney’s absolutely certain Geno’s set—“Yes, Sid, I fine, Sid; water all I need”—he lets the first kid in.

Sidney’s not a fan of making someone pay for something to be signed at these kinds of events—it always seems gimmicky, especially when there are kids involved—but since this is technically a launch party for a book that’s only just been released, they’ve made the decision that a book should be included, with the two-dollar admission ticket subtracted from the price. It seems like the fairest option, both for Geno and for the kids, and for the most part, there aren’t any real complaints.

Until a kid wants her own little plush penguin signed, and is on the verge of tears when her dad tells her she can’t.

“What wrong?” Geno asks, concerned, taking the book Sidney slides to him without looking.

“She wanted the penguin signed,” the girl’s father sighs.

Geno furrows his brow. “I can see?”

The girl puts the penguin on the table, setting it down carefully right next to Vanya. It’s a little smaller, and more well-loved—one of the wings is starting to tear a little around the seams, and the fabric is starting to mat down, as though it’s gone through the wash a few too many times.

“What her name?” Geno asks.

“ _His_ ,” the girl says, sniffling. “His name is Sparkle.”

“So sorry, Sparkle, for get it wrong,” Geno tells the penguin, patting his head. “He handsome. Where you want him sign? I do both, penguin and book.”

The girl points at the penguin’s white belly. “Can you draw him a baby, too?” she asks. “He has a baby.”

“Of course I do. He need his baby.” Geno reaches for a fresh Sharpie, capping the one he’s been using for the books, and gets to work. The penguin is significantly smaller than his hand, and he keeps moving one wing and then the other across its middle, adding little details here and there. “What the baby name?”

“Dandelion,” the girl says, her sniffles and tears almost gone. “It’s a girl.”

“Dandelion,” Geno repeats. He adds one last scribble—his signature, Sidney realizes—and hands the penguin back over. He’s drawn the baby so that, when Sparkle’s wings are folded across his middle, it looks like he’s holding the baby.

Sidney really shouldn’t be as moved about a sketch on a plush penguin as he is.

“There he go, with baby Dandelion,” Geno says. The girl immediately lights up, holding the penguin tightly to her chest.

* * *

 They’re about halfway through the line when Geno murmurs, “Sean here?”

Sidney cranes his neck to see. They’ve managed to get things down so that the line isn’t near the door anymore, but they’ve still got a lot of people to get through. “I can’t tell. I’m sure he is; I told him you had something for him.”

Geno frowns for a moment, but meets the next kid with a smile nonetheless.

Sean and his moms and sister end up near the end of the line, and Sean has a piece of paper clutched to his chest when he walks up to the table.

“We needed to go out for some air,” Candace says, combing her fingers through Sean’s hair. “Sometimes it gets a little too much for him.”

Geno nods sympathetically. “Little bit busy in here.”

“I made this for you,” Sean says quietly, giving Geno the paper with both hands held out in front of him.

Geno takes it carefully, as though it’s something to be handled with kid gloves. It’s a crayon-drawn picture of a little boy—clearly meant to be Sean—and Vanya, holding hands, both with skates and hockey sticks. And then underneath, in shaky blue letters: _best friends_.

“Mama helped me spell it,” Sean says proudly. “I didn’t even make the wrong letters.”

“Is so good, Sean,” Geno says softly. “Best art I’m have in house. Thank you. Thank you for this.”

Sean beams, looking incredibly happy with himself.

“Don’t forget this,” Sidney murmurs, handing Geno the book they’d put aside. Although Sean’s parents had paid for a book for him, Geno had already signed and doodled in a book for him beforehand. Geno opens it up to the title page to show him before handing it over.

Sean’s name is in big, block letters at the very top, with a doodle each of human Sean and monkey Sean on either side of the title page information, as well as a smaller one of Vanya and his two friends near bottom. Below that, in Geno’s neatest handwriting: _Thank you for helping me name monkey Sean. This book wouldn’t be finished without you. Your friends, Vanya and Geno._

“Sid help me, but only little bit,” Geno says, glancing over at Sidney with a flash of something between admiration and tenderness that makes Sidney’s face heat, and then Geno turns back to Sean. “You like?”

“Is that me?” Sean asks, pointing at himself on the page, and Geno nods.

“Is you. Not so good at people, but I think is okay.”

“I’m not good at people, either,” Sean admits, almost as though saying it to himself. “But I’m practicing.”

“Is best way to get better,” Geno agrees. “Maybe you make books someday too. You promise me you keep drawing?”

Sean nods solemnly. “I promise.” He pauses for a minute, then moves around the side of the table and hugs Geno’s arm, before Geno puts his arm around him and hugs him. Geno looks huge next to him—Sean’s short for his age, and Geno would make even an average-sized kid look tiny. There’s something in Sidney’s chest that _hurts_ watching them, a longing unlike anything he’s ever felt.

Sean eventually leaves with his moms and sister, waving goodbye at Sidney and Geno and holding the book with one hand and his balloon with his other.

Sidney slips the drawing into Geno’s bag when he’s busy with another kid, keeping it safe in the portfolio Geno keeps with him.

Geno tries to be attentive with the rest of the kids, Sidney can tell, but it’s obvious the interaction with Sean had an effect on him, too. Sidney desperately wants to know what he’s thinking, if maybe they were thinking something similar, if not—

But Sidney knows that’s a dangerous road to go down, and he tries to focus on the task at hand instead, tries not to imagine himself in the place of the fathers waiting in line with their own kids.

* * *

 Geno looks exhausted when they’re done, flexing his hand carefully as he climbs into Sidney’s passenger seat.

“I’m never write again. Hand hurt too much.”

“You’re just all complaints today, aren’t you?” Sidney teases, starting the car. “First the balloons, now your hand.”

“Sid! Carpal tunnel serious.”

“You don’t have carpal tunnel, G, I promise.”

“How you know? You’re not doctor.”

Sidney shrugs, trying for nonchalance. “I mean, if you have carpal tunnel, you should probably just rest. I can drop you off at your house instead.”

Geno looks at him, suspicious. “Hand not hurt _that_ much. Where we go, Sid?”

“You’ll see,” Sidney says.

He’d spent a good portion of the day before trying to memorize the route to the place, since having his phone give GPS directions would ruin the surprise. Although Geno hasn’t said a word about the bounce house since he’d first brought it up, Sidney still feels like he owes it to Geno to give him one, even if it’s too cold outside. So he’d done some research, found the one place in Halifax that had an indoor adult bounce house, and made some arrangements.

“Pete’s Party Place,” Geno reads as Sidney pulls into the parking lot. “Why we here, Sid?”

“You’ll see,” Sidney promises. “Come on.”

They walk inside, and Sidney has a brief conversation with the greeter before they’re led toward the back of the building. They walk past the bowling lanes, past the arcade room, past the door for the go-kart track—

And there, right next to a giant foam block pit, is the biggest bounce house Sidney’s ever seen. It’s a castle design, each individual shape of the structure a different primary color; it looks practically identical to what a kid-sized bounce house would be, only scaled up.

“All yours,” the greeter says, leaving them to stare at it in awe.

“You get me bounce house,” Geno breathes, tearing his eyes away from it to look at Sidney, awed.

“I didn’t know it’d be this big,” Sidney says, but then Geno’s pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug, kissing him hard.

“Best boyfriend,” Geno says, with so much conviction it takes Sidney aback a little. “ _Best_ , Sid.”

“Come on,” Sidney says, aware that’s he’s grinning stupidly now, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Let’s try it out.”


End file.
